Ambling Home
by henri8l
Summary: Harry Potter/Supernatural/Highlander XOVER. AU. Altered timeline and sequence of events. Dean finds out that there are more Winchesters after all and Harry has revelations of his own to discover. HP/RR slight. DW/ OFC
1. Ch1 At Sixteen

Ambling Home by henri8l

Harry Potter/Supernatural/Highlander XOVER. AU. Altered timeline and sequence of events.

Dean finds out that there are more Winchesters after all and Harry has revelations of his own to discover. HP/RR slight. DW/ OFC.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch1 At Sixteen

John had gone down fighting, Dean was sure of it. A ghost hunt had finally gotten the best of him. Bobby had warned him that his over confidence would kill him one day. They had argued that Dean should accompany him on that hunt. Looking at it now, Dean was thankful that he hadn't gone. If it was bad enough to kill John, then it most certainly would have killed him, too, and then who would be there to look after Sammy? _'Kid can barely cook his own breakfast.'_ This was why today, at sixteen, Dean had stolen his father's prized possession, the impala. He had packed his little brother in it, along with any mementos they were able to carry. Dean had placed their only family portrait, the one with Mary was in the glove compartment, along with John's revolver. So far over the drive, Sammy had taken both out a number of times already, to study them. Dean smiled slightly, it was barely a quirk of the lip at the thought. At least he could comfort him that way, even if Sammy refused to believe that John was dead. He insisted up to now that he was simply out there on another Y.E.D lead.

Their dad hadn't been home in over a month and Dean knew that he was done waiting. He knew that it was better this way for both of them, just as much as he knew that the man was dead. That would be the only reason John would stay away for so long.

Sammy was sleeping in the seat beside him. He had a book open covering his face, and an arm partially out the open car window. "Sammy!" Dean called to him. Sammy didn't move. Dean called out again over the loud music he had playing. The third time, Sammy jerked awake, throwing the book to the floor.

"Dean! Why'd you do that? Pamela was just about to kiss me!" the boy complained, when he understood that they were still driving in the impala. He would have preferred to still be standing next to his locker, making eyes at Pamela the junior high cheerleading queen.

"Please! You're such a runt- no girl with that much hot potential would like you," Dean said teasing the gangly kid. Sammy glared at him from his seat. Dean was the only one to get away with calling the kid a squirt, runt or any other comments about his size, because he was fast outgrowing the terms. And the people to try other than Dean got a taste of Sammy's already massive fists.

"Why'd you wake me up?" Sammy asked picking up his book.

"I'm hungry!" answered Dean.

"You're always hungry!"

The boys arrived at Bobby's car lot with the first light of morning. They sat a few moments before getting out. "I'll tell Bobby what's going on. You go up and take a shower," Dean ordered.

Sammy nodded his head with his hair flopping over his ears. "Okay, Dean."

Bobby greeted them at the front door with shot glasses at the ready. "Morning, boys. Where's John?" he asked, holding open the door as they downed their shots of holy water. He looked over Dean's shoulder looking out for their father's pickup truck.

"Gone, Bobby. He's gone," replied Dean with a light shrug. Sammy gave his taller brother a hug around the middle.

After letting go of his brother, Sammy looked up at Bobby and asked, "Can I take a shower, Uncle Bobby?" His face was unreadable as he waited for an answer.

Bobby took in the kid's brave front and let it go. "Yeah. You know where the towels are. Missouri's up there, she'll sort you out."

"Thanks, Uncle Bobby."

"No problem, kid," said Bobby as the kid squeezed passed him.

"So John's finally gone and done it," he breathed out as Sammy could be heard climbing the stairs.

"Never came back after that ghost job," Dean said tiredly.

"And it took you this long to head out here?"

"Sammy didn't want to believe it. I had to drive straight here, cause I knew he'd talk me out of coming if we stayed the night somewhere. I only got him to leave by telling him Dad would look for us here first."

A/N This has been knocking around in my head, and I needed a break from Endeavor of the Strong. Thanks for reading, please review H.


	2. Ch2 The last of the Winchesters

Ambling Home by henri8l

Harry Potter/Supernatural/Highlander XOVER. AU. Altered timeline and sequence of events.

Dean finds out that there are more Winchesters after all and Harry has revelations of his own to discover. HP/RR slight. DW/ OFC.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch2 The last of the Winchesters

The months flew by after the boys arrived at Bobby's car lot. It had taken most of those months for Sam to finally admit his father wasn't coming back. Not that it happen without guidance. He carried on his daily search of the mailbox, and his pestering of Missouri to find out if there were any calls from or visions about John. It wasn't until just last week that Bobby made up his mind to put a stop to it. He had thought that Sam would come to accept what had happened, but he hadn't and he simply wasn't healing. Neither was Dean. It showed in different ways. He was quieter than he had been in, in years. Most of Dean's energy these days was spent focusing on the care and concerns of Sam. Bobby and Missouri knew this couldn't go on. The boys did not deserve this. Bobby arranged a small memorial for John. He even went to the local cemetery and ordered a nice and decent headstone and had the caretaker decorate it. He hadn't told Dean that he was doing any of this, but he had fought with him for weeks. Bobby had been trying to convince him to help find a way to get Sam through this, and Dean along with him. But Dean had fought fiercely because he was still being mindful of Sam's feelings. Last week Bobby shot down his protests by ultimately taking him aside and showing him what he had done.

"Dean, remember a few months back when I went to assist on that hunt in the east? The poltergeist?"

"Yeah, Bobby," Dean said, standing with his arms crossed and face still flushed from their recent screaming match. Bobby turned from him and opened the closet door in his office, which was really a small supernatural library.

He walked behind the coats, and bent down to pick up a box. He came carrying it out. "This, this is what I was getting." Then he rested the box on the table that was in the center of the room. Papers and books were pushed aside as he shoved the covered box towards Dean.

"What's that?" Dean asked, defiantly. He was still angry about the way Bobby wanted to hurt Sam. He was currently looking for any reason to take Sam away, especially if they kept acting like this.

"Just look."

Dean opened the lid of the cardboard box and peered in. The first thing he saw was a leather bound book. "Is that?" Dean began to ask startled, but couldn't finish his question.

"It's your Dad's, son. That's where I went. I went to that hunt your dad tried to finish. I smoked the bastards, and I found your father's remains. I," Bobby faltered. "I found his truck and began putting his belongings in my car. On one of my trips between his truck and my car I saw John."

"No!" gasped Dean, not wanting to hear anymore. He covered his ears, and shut his eyes tightly. But soon his morbid curiosity won out. He uncovered his ears and stared Bobby down, ready to hear the rest.

Bobby continued. "I saw John, he materialized in front of me. He made a grab for my arm, and I just went into action."

"You salted and burned him?" the boy's voice cracked by saying this.

"I had to he would'na wanted to stay like that. I said a prayer before I did it. You won't believe this but, his ghost stood beside me while I was doing it," Bobby said, wiping the sweat running down his temple.

"Like he was making sure you got the job done," offered Dean.

Bobby rubbed an eye and cleared his throat. "Yeah, that was John to the last. A task master."

Dean stared at Bobby for a few more minutes, with his youthful brow furrowed. Bobby didn't know what to do. Dean had never been the type of kid to take comfort very well. He was always laughing off his problems, preferring to make a joke out of them instead of dealing with them. He watched him reach into the box and pull out his dad's dog tags, which he always wore. The man had been so consumed by the hunt he had an anti-possession rune engraved into the back of them. He used to say that it would have to tide him over until he got it as a tattoo. Dean hung them around his neck. They fell right over his own anti-possession tattoo. John had taken him to ink it for his last birthday. "So he's really gone?" he asked Bobby in a tranquil tone. His voiced turned into a miserable whisper as he went on, "He's not coming back?" Bobby wasn't surprised to hear that even Dean had problems letting his father go, despite his continuous recitations of the opposite. Bobby and Missouri had heard enough of 'I'm fines,' coming from the boy since he got here, to make their heads spin. Bobby just firmly took hold of Dean's shoulders, squeezing them in effort to give some physical comfort. What he hadn't expected Dean to do was grab him in a strong hug.

They remained there, standing like that for what felt like a long time. It was that evening, when Sam came home from the library that Dean took him upstairs to talk. It was then that he showed him their father's belongings, and retold Bobby's story. The next morning Bobby held the small memorial at the empty gravesite with Sam clutching at Dean and Missouri holding onto them both. It was official. They were the last of the Winchesters.

A/N That's all for now. What do you think? H.


	3. Ch3 Distress Call

Ambling Home by henri8l

Harry Potter/Supernatural/Highlander XOVER. AU. Altered timeline and sequence of events.

Dean finds out that there are more Winchesters after all and Harry has revelations of his own to discover. HP/RR slight slash. DW/ OFC.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch3 Distress Call

Most of the year 1985 was quiet in everything supernatural. So much so, that Bobby had made it a rule to stay in from hunts. He began doing his research nearly full time for other hunters. He and Missouri spent their time taking care of the boys. The small group meshed easily as a small family, they all thrived. Bobby became less cantankerous, Missouri baked more and hummed during whatever task she took up. Sam became a human sponge in whatever he found someone doing. So far he learned how to change the oil in a car with Bobby, to make jambalaya with Missouri, and how to pick up girls and run a fast quarter mile with his brother. Dean laughed unabashedly, he grew leaner muscle and began to shoot up in height. He was hoping to be at least as tall as John had been.

Everything was normal. Missouri began shuttling both of the boys to their schools and for the first time in their lives the boys entered extracurricular activities. Sam joined the school debate team and Dean took up track, cross-country. Every evening after practice and homework, Dean would lose himself in a long run.

Since coming to live with Bobby and Missouri the boys watched as her belly grew large and they didn't need to be told that a baby was soon to come. Sam had been curious to ask when they had begun dating. Since he always knew them to be solitary people, but found that he was, too, bashful to ask. Dean didn't really care much, it felt natural to see their two guardians like this. They had always been close friends, anyway. One morning before school, while Sam helped Missouri make breakfast it occurred to him that this was as normal as they would ever get. No demons, no ghosts. Just a brother, an almost mom, a kind of dad and a new baby. This realization quickly erased his embarrassing questions. Life was good.

Universally things were good in all dealings with the supernatural. The Roadhouse was quieting down. Ellen called Missouri often just to gossip since she no longer had a bar full of rowdy men to supervise. To Sam's chagrin, her daughter, Jo, began calling to speak only to him. Dean took great entertainment from watching Sam's face turn different shades of red during Jo's calls. As peaceful as it had become it seemed, too, surreal. There was next to no demon activity, and this was making all hunters within all of the networks, even the international ones, nervous.

What the boys didn't know, was that while Sam was memorizing factoids, for debates and Dean was charming the local high school population, something big was afoot. Missouri was first in their household to see the signs. She began to have visions of warfare, death and magic. She didn't know what all of it meant, but when Bobby looked up things she told him about he dropped everything. He left the comfortable home they'd made for the boys and headed out to the roadhouse to share their suspicions and findings.

The day that Bobby left, the boys came home from school to the smell of fresh baked cookies. They smelled so good that Dean hadn't even bothered to proclaim his love for pie. It didn't take long for the batch of cookies to disappear between the two of them. They went about their routines and only really noticed Bobby's absence at dinner, when he didn't come to the table. "Missy, where's Bobby?" asked Sam, immediately on high alert. His face was already pale from thinking about all he things that could have harmed the kind man.

"Did he go to pick up a car? Or help on a hunt?" asked Dean helping himself to some mashed potatoes.

"No. He had to go see the Harvelle's at the Road House. There's been a meeting called," she hesitated before continuing. "You might as well know. Bobby called it. He thinks, and don't worry boys. He _thinks_ that, there is going to be an overflow of activity soon," she said putting their fears, delicately.

"Yes! Will we be able to hunt?" Dean excitedly.

"Not while you're under eighteen and in my house, you won't!" said Missouri earnestly. She had never agreed with John's method of raising these boys. Seeing them so fresh faced was a good sight and she didn't want to see that progress reverse.

Taking this as a challenge Dean answered back, "This is _Bobby's_ house, and I'm almost eighteen! I can _take care_ of myself _and Sammy_."

Missouri stood up from the table so quickly that the table shook. "Dean Winchester. You listen to me good. You are under _my_ care! _Both_ Bobby and I are here to look after you, so don't sass me. Do you _understand_ me?"

Dean gave up his teenaged anger rebellion long enough to see just how hurt Missouri looked. "I'm sorry, Missy," he said as Missouri sat back down at the table. Sam looked at his brother open mouthed. That had to be the second time that he had ever heard him apologize to anyone.

"Be sure to remember what I said, is all I want, Dean. You two are important."

Sam looked away from Dean to Missouri and asked one of his favorite questions, "why?" Dean rolled his eyes and picked up a platter heavy with stewed chicken. The woman that was taking the role of their mother, looked at Sam and stated with certainty, "because, child. Bobby and I cherish you."

The wait until Bobby's return was tense for everyone who lived at the house in the middle of Singer's Salvage Yard. He didn't come home for three nights, but when he did, he had more news to share. Everyone ambushed him with questions. He led them to the dining room.

Bobby took off his cap and combed out his hat head with his fingers. "The Demonic Cease-Fire, that's what Ellen's named it, isn't universal like we thought," Bobby told the small group now sitting at the dining table.

"So what I saw was true?" Missouri said, sighing. She bit her lip and glanced quickly at the fascinated young faces across from her. Bobby sat down beside her and took her hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.

"It will be alright, Sweetheart." She gave him a skeptical look and said, "don't make promises you can't keep." But her lack of anger was shown by the a quick kiss she planted on Bobby's lips.

"That brings me to the other news, _family_," Bobby said, savoring his saccharine turn of phrase.

"We _already know_ about the baby, Bobby," said Dean with a bored tone, and smirk. Which was instantly wiped off at the unappreciative glance Missouri gave him. "What were you going to say, Bobby?"

"The Roadhouse and nearly every other hunters' gathering place received a mass distress call yesterday."

"_Really_?" gawped Sam.

"How?" asked Dean, holding his fork halfway to his mouth.

Bobby didn't stop to answer. "We are _all_ going to England. They are going to need all of our expertise. _And_ I don't trust you boys not to find a way to follow us," he said, giving them a pointed look. Dean shrugged, and Sam blushed at how true that statement was. "Dean go clean the guns, Sam go in my office. Start looking up sacrifice, any reference you can find of gifted ones, and Dark Lords. Missouri could you start writing letters to the boys schools? I have to go in my safe room and collect anything useful we can take with us." Everyone jumped at the chance to do something after so much waiting.

It was time to cross the Atlantic.

A/N Now we finally get to see how the worlds begin to tie together. H.


	4. Ch4Mesmerized

Ambling Home by henri8l

Harry Potter/Supernatural/Highlander XOVER. AU. Altered timeline and sequence of events.

Dean finds out that there are more Winchesters after all and Harry has revelations of his own to discover. HP/RR slight slash. DW/ OFC.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch4Mesmerized

Dean had never been to the Roadhouse without their father. It felt awkward being around all of the hunters, knowing that he wasn't going to be returning for him to join a hunt. Usually when they would arrive either silently or arguing John would cheer them up or shut them up with one of the few treats he ever offered. A pop for Dean and a glass of ice-cold chocolate milk for Sammy. They'd usually sit at the bar while John made his rounds with his colleagues. Ellen would make small talk. Some would normally try to say something to make them laugh and Dean would have to stair Sam away from the creepos. But before they could finish their drinks, usually with the last sip, because they always took their time savoring its rarity. 'We didn't even get this treatment at Christmas.' Invariably John would be ready to leave then having gathered all the information necessary and as long as he could remember Dean went with him. So sitting at the same bar while his brother downed his fourth tall glass of iced chocolate milk, Dean felt like this was unreal. Not as unusual as the prospect of traveling with someone touching an old rusted license plate as Bobby had informed them, but very strange. The boys didn't believe it would happen. Until it happened.

The whole occupancy of Harvelle's Roadhouse was now in another bar. It was darker than the Roadhouse had ever been, it had candles lighting it in nearly every corner, and it felt cramped. "Alright, everyone. Please listen to me because we don't have much time. I'm Albus Dumbledore," sounded a voice. Everyone around the small family looked to all sides to see the face, of the voice. They didn't see the person speaking, but the voice continued. "Madam Rosmerta, has been kind enough to close her pub for the next hour to get you organized. After that we will all have to move to separate locations for our protection. We are at war, and we can never be, too careful." Missouri put a hand on Dean's shoulder when reminded of the war. "Please. Have a drink. A handful of my representatives will be arriving shortly." The owner of the voice did not produce himself.

Just as Bobby was served something called butterbeer, Missouri was sipping pumpkin juice. A young man walked up to their table. He loomed over them. "Good evening. I am Severus Snape. I will be your guide while you're here. Once your done with your refreshments I'll take you to your safe house." Bobby gave the man a once over before saying, "We'll go now. Alright boys, Missouri." The group followed the tall and darkly dressed Snape. He pulled out a miniature globe keychain, and held it out to them. "Please, everyone touch this. It will work just as the portkey you used to arrive at here. A fingertip is all that is necessary." Dean gave him an odd look when they met eyes over the tiny globe as the tavern disappeared from around them. They arrived u the drive of small cottage, in what looked to be a neighborhood of respectively sized cottages. "Follow me," Snape said as he turned to walk forward.

The door sprang open before they made it even halfway up the walkway. "_Rus!_ You're back. Papa told me you were coming!" said the girl who threw open the doors. She came running out at full speed and before Snape could respond, she barreled into him, nearly knocking the man over.

"Serafin, get off of me!" Snape told his sister. "And let us inside. I don't want to cause a scene."

"Cause a scene? Rus, no one here _cares_, and you're all inside the wards anyway. Mum is inside. Come, bring your friends!" While the girl said all of this she twirled around and ran straight back into the house.

Severus turned to the small family behind him and with a wary expression said, "_That_ was my sister." Severus stood to the side to let all of them through the threshold, "you'll be safer inside."

As soon as they entered the home, it grew in size. Or as Sam observed maybe they became aware of its true size. Though the outside looked very modest, perhaps on the small side, indoors it had vaulted ceilings. A sweeping staircase was to their right and a large framed mirror faced the door on an opposite wall. In it they each saw something different. The family didn't really didn't get a chance to wonder on the peculiar artifact long, because a very elegant woman swept into the room. She was closely followed by Snape's sister, looking at the two of them it was obvious that she was their mother. Bobby cleared his throat, preparing to introduce himself and his family when Snape beat him to it. The young man stood behind their group, having closed the door, called out to the woman. "Mother, these are the Singers."

Dean's head whipped around to correct the assumption when Bobby gave him a discreet head slap. "They are some of the hunters that you were told about," Snape continued.

The woman graciously smiled at them and opened her arms, as she gestured towards a dining room to their left. "I prepared dinner. Perhaps you would like a chance to freshen up?" Missouri nodded. Snape's mother smiled even brighter. "Since that's settled. Sera, please show our guests to their rooms. And Sera. Please, behave."

Snape snorted, indelicately behind the group. "As if that is likely."

Missouri took Sam's hand as they climbed the staircase. The girl, Serafin, managed to climb them in a sedate manner. If it weren't for the twinkling of her eyes and the bounce in her step, they wouldn't be able to tell that she was aching to be mischievous.

Sam's was the first bedroom. The doors were large, dark and forbidding. "This used to be Rus' room, but he lives in his own house now. Sorry for all of the dark colours, ummm… I just realized that I don't know your names! _See!_ I told Mum Rus has inept social skills! No wonder he has almost _no_ mates. I am Serafin Prince Potter. My Papa's escorting some other people this evening, his name's Charlus. My mum, Eileen, and Minty of course is our house elf, though she's hardly ever here. She spends most of her time with James in Godric's Hollow."

Bobby grew impatient with her rambling, and cut her off. "This is Missouri," he said giving his love a quick adoring glance. "The boys, well the young one-"

"Hey!" Sam gave an indignant protest. Bobby's mouth turned down at the corners, as he grew annoyed with the boy, too, for interrupting him.

"-Is Sam Winchester and the older one, his name is-," Dean stepped forward before Bobby could finish.

He flashed his brightest, most alluring smile, "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester." The girl for once was speechless. She blushed from the roots of her hair to her chin, letting her green eyes glow within her face. She gave a sweet, small smile to Dean, and a slightly larger embarrassed one to the rest of the family. Leaving Sam at his room, she began to lead the rest of them silently down the long hall.

Bobby could almost hear the hormones, bouncing between the two teens and wished he'd packed some antacids. As they followed her, he whispered to Missouri, "Let's hope we get to leave here before her father comes after him. I swear the boy doesn't know the meaning of off limits." They both looked over at Dean, who was walking alongside them, with a besotted look on his face. All his attention was split between staring at Serafin's behind, and remembering to put one foot in front of the other. Missouri gave the boy a soft wrap on the arm, but it was to no avail. Dean was lost. She shook her head and smiled back at Bobby and kept an eye on the two kids. Dean had caught up to Serafin, leaving his guardians to follow in their wake.

Dean's room was the last in the row. He and Serafin walked to it slower than they had to. "So. What's it like having magic?" Dean asked, his hands in his pockets.

Serafin smiled softly, "Wonderful. I can't imagine my life without it. I don't know how you manage. Well I know how you manage, Mum's taught me all kinds of useful muggle methods," Serafin rambled.

"Muggle?" asked Dean curiously. He liked how the candlelight shimmered over Serafin's eyes.

"Yeah. Non-magic people, you… Though I'm almost certain hunters have some magic. How else could you keep up with so many supernatural beings?" Even her questions were cute.

"Training, Sera. Do you mind if I call you Sera?"

"No, I don't mind. Training?"

"Yes, all of us hunters are trained to be hardened fighters. Some are better than others, but we get the job done."

"Yes…_you_ do, don't you?" she said, dropping her voice, and licking her lips. As if catching herself, she backed away from Dean quickly. "I'd better go. Your room is just there. I have to go back down," Serafin said, toying with the blue lace of her collar, nervously.

"Are you sure you can't see me in? How do I know that the door is unlocked?" Dean persisted, leaning into the girl's personal space.

"_I would stop, while I was ahead, Singer!"_ The voice made both teens jump. The booming baritone was Severus.

"_Merlin_, Rus! You scared us!" Serafin said, again stepping away from Dean.

Severus didn't blink once, he stared at both his sister and this flirtatiously forward young man as if they were a puzzle to be solved. "_Get_- yourself downstairs, _now_, Serafin. Mother will start to worry."

"But, _Rus_!"

"Go, Sera or would you like me to tell your father what I _almost_ witnessed?"

"But we weren't _doing_ anything!" she insisted. Severus only looked angrier at this denial.

Dean swallowed audibly. "Maybe you should go, Sera-" Severus sent him a scathing look. "Miss Potter," Dean corrected his mistake.

"Okay. Please, Rus, don't tell Papa." Severus sniffed, and turned his head away, dismissing her. The girl then turned tail, and her hurried footfalls could be heard getting farther and farther away.

Now that he was alone with Dean, Severus stretched his height out to his full 6 foot 6 inch frame. He narrowed his dark eyes and pointed a finger down the hallway in the direction that his sister had just run. Dean was intimidated enough to look off towards where the man was pointing. "You! What is your name?"

"Dean," he answered, momentarily defiant.

"Well, _Mister_ Singer."

"It's Winchester," Dean interrupted.

Severus pinned him with an even angrier glare, and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "You, Dean _Singer_, will keep your filthy hands to yourself while you are _in this_ house. _Do you_ understand me?"

"Well of course, Snape," Dean answered with a smirk, almost daring Severus' face to get any nastier. It did.

"You're just as cocky as that _damned_ _Potter_!"

This peaked Dean's interest. "Wait? But aren't _you_ a Potter?" he asked, his eyes twinkling in amusement at the sneer that only grew deeper on the man's face. He was so angry that he pinned Dean to the wall.

"Don't you _ever_ say that again! Charlus may have _married_ my mother. They may have given me a sister… But I am _not_ and _never_ will be a Potter! I am of no blood relation at all to _James Potter_," Severus spat. "But I am warning you. Keep your _American_ hands off of my sister. If you fail to heed this warning you'll also have _James_ to deal with and then only your muggle God can save you." Severus then left Dean gaping after the man as he swept down the hallway. He appeared to be floating and Dean could swear he heard thunder. He was broken out of his stupor by the sound of laughter. Dean spun around in an offensive posture, ready to immobilize his assailant if need be. But it was only Bobby.

"I guess Missouri sent me to check up on you for a reason. I'd take his advice, boy," Bobby warned as he chuckled at Dean's blushing.

"But, Bobby!"

"We're guests here. Do your best _not_ to knock up the locals, _especially_ that one! Remember they _have_ magic. Real magic, not that demon-dealing magic." Bobby's laughs only rang louder as Dean went into the bedroom and slammed the door in his face.


	5. Ch5 Reemergence & Infiltration

Ambling Home by henri8l

Harry Potter/Supernatural/Highlander XOVER. AU. Altered timeline and sequence of events.

Dean finds out that there are more Winchesters after all and Harry has revelations of his own to discover. HP/RR slight slash. DW/ OFC.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch5 Reemergence & Infiltration

When Dumbledore finally arrived to the Potter home late that evening, the entire family seemed to be there. The loving parents, one incredibly beautiful daughter that was seriously tempting Dean, one daughter-in-law who was nothing to sneeze at and two, by the looks of it warring step brothers, Severus and _'James?'_ Dean thought, trying to remember if that was the name. Missouri had called Dean from his room upstairs a few minutes after Dumbledore's arrival. They had left Sam to sleep. When the pair had joined the group, they were all sitting in the kitchen listening to Dumbledore update them on different goings-ons. Missouri took Bobby's seat and Dean stood by her side.

"As I was telling your father, earlier," Dumbledore began speaking directly to Dean when his eyes fell on him standing beside Missouri. The boy looked askance at the older man. It was at the tip of his tongue to correct him, but found that it didn't hurt, too badly to hear Bobby being referred to as his father. He hardened his resolve to stare at the man with an unfazed look as he tried to ignore the pesky feelings that began to bubble to the surface, as his thoughts turned to his father. "We are dealing with a man who believes himself to be an immortal. Only he still fears death." That caught Dean off guard.

"Isn't that the whole point of being immortal? You can't die? He's one of you witches anyway, right? Couldn't he just magic death away?" Dean asked brashly.

"See, _Potter_. He's as _much_ of an ass as you are," said Severus as he stood next to James, his lips were curled in a sneer.

Severus' mother opened her mouth to protest his language, but James' wife sent a hex his way first. Severus ended up rubbing his temples, in pain.

"Thank you, Dear," said James with a jovial demeanor.

"It wasn't for you. Please continue, Professor," his red headed wife said, almost reverently.

Everyone turned back to the old man with long red hair and royal blue robes. "Thank you, Lily, my dear. To answer your question, young man. _Yes_, that is the point to immortality, but you will find that there are limits to magic. _Death_ is one of the things that most, if not all wizards and witches cannot avoid. Tom has been under this illusion of immortality since he was a teen, fresh out of Hogwarts. Yet, recently he's begun killing scores of people in an effort to eliminate other immortals or so he thinks. He targets them carefully and has his followers execute the beheadings. It's ghastly enough on it's own, but it would seem he has now teamed up with an army of demonic reinforcements."

"_How_? Why would they work for him?" Bobby demanded. Before Dumbledore could answer, two things happened simultaneously. Dean had to catch Missouri, who slumped to her side and a foggy apparition of a Bengal tiger sauntered into the room.

"_Missouri_? Missy, wake up!" Dean said to her worried.

Bobby was on his knees before his pregnant love, called, "Sweetheart?" He tried tapping her cheeks to bring her around, but her eyes remained closed as Dean held her up by her shoulders. The Bengal tiger paced in front of Dumbledore, their eyes catching with each pass the tiger made. They were communicating.

"Everyone, we must go. We are needed. James, Severus, Lily, if you would? Please escort Mrs. Singer and Mr.-"

"No!" Missouri gasped out, winded as she came to. "Don't go! He has a new ally. A powerful one," she managed to say, turning her eyes towards Dean.

"Miss, I _must_-" Dumbledore tried to say.

"_Listen_, Buddy, if my woman _says_ something, _you_ listen!" Bobby said glaring at Dumbledore.

"She's a _Seer_?" asked Severus in the quiet of the kitchen. Everyone was listening now.

"No. She's more than that. _She's_ a Diviner," Dumbledore answered, quietly. "What was it that you saw, my lady?" he asked standing close to Missouri as Bobby and Dean helped her regain her balance again in her seat.

"Yellow eyes. Yellow _and_ red. He has invited him into his body. They are currently one. If anyone goes now they will meet certain death. Between the two of them…" she said clearly. "I had hoped. He had gone quiet, I had hoped that he was gone," Missouri whispered, touching Dean's hand that still rested on her shoulder.

Dean was pale. His hazel eyes were blown wide, fully dilated with fear. All he could think of were those eyes he had seen that night. The night his mother died. He could no longer remember the sound of her voice; he could barely remember her scent. If it weren't for the picture he had, he probably wouldn't remember her face, but he would always remember those eyes. Dean blinked, blankly for a few more minutes, unaware of what was being said around him. When the noise of the room began to penetrate his mind again, Dean wasn't the only one standing. Everyone, including Missouri was on their feet, arguing what they should do.

"I say we attack. They're in Hogsmeade! There's children there!" yelled James. Everyone then began adding his or her thoughts at once, and nothing intelligible could be heard. To Dean it was a cacophony of sound, playing to the angry, and horrified faces in the room. Serafin looked to Dean with a dismayed look as all of the adults disappeared from the room, muggles included.

"What the _hell_?" Dean exclaimed at seeing both Bobby and Missouri disappear.

"They must've apparated out. They'll be fine, traveling. It's when they get there. That's what's dangerous," Serafin said, walking over to Dean.

"They have to be fine," said Dean, resolutely. He didn't know how he knew it. Maybe it was more wishful thinking. He was thinking about this and the feel of Serafin's arm linking with his, when all of his hairs stood up on end. _"Sammy!"_ he yelled, leaving the girl to follow after him as he ran through the house, and up the stairs to his brother's room.

When they entered the room, Sam was still sleeping. Only there was a figure sitting on his bed leaning over him. "Leave him alone!" Dean yelled, hurling himself into action. He produced the knives that were always on his person and lunged at the figure. The person stood slowly to meet him, and Dean was met with a grinning man, who looked at him with glowing yellow eyes. Dean looked right back at him while stabbing him repeatedly in the abdomen. Serafin screamed and screamed at the bloody sight, waking Sam.

The yellow eyed man, stood to his full, towering height, and looked down at Dean with a coy smile. Dean stabbed him a few more times for good measure, even maneuvering to the floor to cut the man's Achilles tendon. Above him, the man's yellow eyes turned blood red, and he still stood tall, remaining in his sturdy posture, despite the wounds. Dean quickly moved back, putting a few body lengths between them. The man began to cackle at Dean's horrified face. "Is that all? Little one, didn't you know? You have to take my head" Saying this he moved further away from the bed where Sam sat, clutching his pillow, holding his own blade out in defense. Once the man was far enough away, Sam scrambled off the other side of the bed, to put it between them. Serafin hurried to the smaller boy and stood in front of him.

The man began to approach on Dean and Dean just stood there. _'The man should be down!'_ He was sure that he had punctured major organs. _'Maybe I need to go for the spinal column?'_

Their eyes were deadlocked and the thing's eyes were back to that familiar sickly yellow. "Oh, Deany-Boy, that just won't work. I _told_ you he was precious, Tom," it said, as if reading Dean's thoughts.

'_It probably did,'_ Dean reminding himself that this was a demon he was dealing with.

"Dean, I think I've _finally_ found a playmate that can understand my rules!" the yellow eyed being said, still laughing. With a wave of his arm he threw both Dean and Serafin against the closed oak doors of Sam's room. They landed in a heap unconscious. It then began to stalk Sam, who was curled up in a corner with his knife drawn.

When the teens regained consciousness it was to find Sam tucked in bed, as though nothing had happened. "Sammy?" Dean groaned as he picked himself up off of the floor. "Sammy!" he yelled at his sleeping brother. They boy threw a pillow in Dean's direction and rolled over.

"Go 'way, Dean. I'm tired," he murmured.

"Get up, Sammy. Wake up, now, Sammy!" Dean said desperately, now shaking his brother. Serafin came to his side and stilled his hands.

"Stop. You'll frighten him," she said, trying to draw him away from the bed.

"But that monster!" he said, fighting her.

"It's gone, Dean," she said glancing about the room.

Dean nodded, still looking suspiciously to all corners of the room. "He could still be here," Dean argued weakly, as he saw that the demon or Dark Lord had left. There was no evidence, not even blood to say that he had been there at all. Dean could even feel weight of his knives in their holsters, pressing against his body.

"Let's go. We'll go to my room. It's right next to Sammy's," she said quietly, taking his hand. Dean accepted this option, but first he went to Sam's bedside and leaned his head on the edge of the bed. It was, too, quiet to tell by hearing, but at this angle with the side of his face flush with the soft comforter, he could see the wonderful rise and fall of the boy's chest. He was breathing. _'He's alive.'_ In a rare show of emotion Dean leaned further over and dropped a kiss on his baby brother's head. "Sleep well, Sammy." Serafin and Dean walked hand in hand out of the quiet bedroom.

A/N Reviews and critiques are welcome. H.


	6. Ch6 Worth Their Salt

Ambling Home by henri8l

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch6 Worth Their Salt

Once morning came Bobby checked Dean's room first. There was no sign of the boy other than his belongings that were sprawled over the bed covers. It looked like they had been undisturbed. So Dean hadn't slept here. Shaking his head, Bobby walked out of the empty bedroom. _'Why didn't I check last night?'_ He scolded himself for his laziness. Missouri had been so tired the night before that they both had just collapsed in bed without checking on the boys. He had fallen asleep mere minutes after she had, fully knowing something like this could happen. He stuck his head into Sam's room and Dean wasn't there either. He knew that he should give the boy the benefit of the doubt, but Dean often did just what he shouldn't. As Bobby shut Sam's door quietly, he saw Dean's lean muscled figure slip out of the bedroom beside Sam's. Naked as the day he was born. "Dean! What the hell is wrong with you? Where are your clothes?" Bobby demanded. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin.

Dean moved a hand over his privates and shrugged, "I was just heading to bed?" he offered. Bobby was about to give the boy a cuff about the head when he took a look at the kid's eyes. They were dilated and the colour was off. They weren't their usual hazel-green. There were now flecks of gold Bobby hadn't noticed before.

"What's going on with you? What's up with your eyes?"

"I dunno. Nothing? I feel really good. _Really_, good, Bobby," Dean said with a leer.

Bobby now had no doubt that the boy had gone against all warnings to leave that girl alone. "Jeez," he said, letting Dean walk passed.

_Seventeen years later_

Dean was staring out the window, his eyes fixed on the wing of the plane. His natural twitches and gestures ceased. His only movements were from his eyelids blinking every so often. Sam sat across from him, taking in the statue that his brother had become. After leaving the motel he hadn't said a word. Sam had only watched his face tensing further and further as the unbelievable news tumbled through his mind. He still couldn't believe it himself. Dean had a son. A teenager who had been parceled between one bad situation to another for most of his life. Sam was shaken and this kid wasn't even his, but he agreed that the knowledge of the boy instantly altered their priorities. It had been only the two of them for so long, the last of the Winchesters and what not. They had the responsibilities that came with it, and half the time wore it like a curse. If Sam didn't hear the long and short of the boy's life, he would've told his brother to leave him be. The kid might've had a chance at a normal life. Sam had started to tell his brother this before leaving the motel, but Dean had only handed him the letter. The letter told him that everyone else the kid had that was worth their salt was dead.

Turning away from Dean to look around at the other passengers, Sam took in a deep breath trying to ease the guilt he felt at his initial response. It didn't help, and his mind returned to a few hours before even that, when he discovered Dean with a letter in hand, trembling like a leaf.

Dean had been damn near mute, lumbering through their small motel room. Thoughts raced through his mind faster than the words could even enter his mouth. That had been about one in the morning. Sometime in the early morning hours, they parked the impala in the airport lot, leaving only with their duffels. Now it was eight and they were on a plane, duffels stowed, travelling across the Atlantic for the third time in their lives.

There was some turbulence, and a warning from the pilot for all on board to fasten their seat belts. Dean could see Sam refasten his out of the corner of his eye. He did the opposite. Dean unclasped his and made his way to the restroom, fighting the flight attendant all the way. "Move out of my way, lady, before I blow chunks at you," he snapped. The flight attendant put up her hands and moved out of his way. As he walked down the aisle, Dean's jaw clenched and his gut twisted with the thoughts that were running through his mind. How could she abandon his son? How could he have a son? Why hadn't he been told? How many times had Harry been carted off to some other unwilling family member? How scarred would his kid be? Dean's eyes began to burn with tears of frustration. He couldn't handle the sadness yet. It was turning into an all consuming rage and sense of keen urgency to remove his son from the situation that moved him this far, this quickly. Emotionally and geographically.

Dean was almost ready to leave the cramped airplane lavatory, when his reflection caught his attention. His eyes were wide and intense. He tried to blink away the burning sensation that he had been fighting since getting the news. His eyes still glowed or at least the flecks did. Those golden flecks that Bobby had noticed all of those years ago had never gone away. They had worried for a while that it had to do with Azazel, but that turned out to be false trail. Dean's stomach gave one more twinge, and he splashed some cool water on his face. There was a knock on the door. Dean made his exit, hearing Missouri's voice in his mind, _'Just breathe deep. Have faith, like I taught you.' 'Good ol' Missy,'_ he thought, his worries easing slightly already with each deep breath he took.

Missouri, he could always count on her. The person he had called before even telling Sam was Missy. She arranged all of their flight information, wired all the money they could possibly need, and all but ordered him to bring his son to her as soon as they stepped foot back in the States. Dean agreed, the sooner he could take his son home, the better.

A/N Thanks for the reviews. Glad you're enjoying it. H.


	7. Ch7 Under Siege

Ambling Home by henri8l

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch7 Under Siege

Harry was under siege. His heart was hammering away as he continued to throw more of his belongings haphazardly into his trunk. He would've done this earlier, but he feared jinxing his chances of actually getting away. About twenty minutes before he had barricaded himself inside the room that he occupied alone, just off of the 3rd floor corridor. His wards would keep out everyone, he hoped. He knew that no house elves could enter, though that was no different from when he'd first arrived in these rooms at the beginning of term. With what he had found out, he couldn't risk letting anyone who would report to Dumbledore about him, in. That was also the reason that none of his friends had access to the room either.

If it were up to him, they wouldn't even know where it was, but of course the headmaster had let that slip to the general population of Hogwarts. Up to tonight Harry had found a new love letter held to his door by a sticking charm, when he'd come back from dinner. Before this standoff began he had transfigured the heart shaped, perfume drenched rag into a rat and compelled it to return to Gryffindor dorms, afraid for it's very life. Harry wished he could hear the screams that the ugly rat would cause. _'It was a good idea to make it into Scabbers,'_ he thought pulling his last school tie he would ever wear off of his neck. He crumpled the crimson and gold striped fabric in a ball and stuffed it in a corner of the trunk. Slamming it shut, he pulled it from the bed onto the stone floor and sat down on the lid. Now he would wait. The headmaster would be on his way soon, he was sure. He had heard Hermione instruct Ron to retrieve Dumbledore just before he put up the sound-muting barrier.

The last few months had been uniquely bad. First, Sirius dead. Second, Harry was cut off from everyone over the break. Thridly, the Dursley's had been particularly nasty this last holiday, if he could call it one. Harry had willfully blocked most of what happened from his memory. What he could remember of it was bad enough that, despite his innate curious streak, he still would rather it remain a blur. Needless to say, leaving Privet Drive this year had been his happiest escape since his first departure, after his 11th birthday.

Harry had been back at Hogwarts for two months and his arm still thrummed with pain from when Vernon had put all of his weight on it by keeping it trapped under his heavy foot. In fact, most of his bones still ached from his time in his aunt's house. He knew that the persistent pain in his right arm was a fracture, but he refused to make a visit to Mme. Pomphrey. She would ask, too many questions, make her own assumptions and would only inform Dumbledore. Just what Harry didn't need. He had, had enough of the elderly man's lectures on why he shouldn't be telling tales about his loving and charitable relatives.

Harry stared at the door from his seat on the top of his trunk. He was thinking of what he should say, when the door gave an especially harsh judder. _'They've brought reinforcements,'_ Harry thought as he watched the door quiver again. What he _should_ say and would, might have to be two different things. He just hoped he had the brass to tell Dumbledore what was coming to him. Everything he had learned, the things that he had discovered, the things Harry still didn't know. All of it had the markings of Albus Dumbledore's work. Harry was ready to be done with being under the man's control.

At the end of the last term his missing birth papers had come into question when he attempted to emancipate himself from the Dursley's. He sent the papers into the Ministry of Magic in the last few months of the term, hoping to pre-empt a return to his "caring aunt" and her family. When there was a delay, he thought that it was the normal bureaucracy and reluctantly returned to the Dursley's, anyway.

What he received while on holiday, were notifications of missing records, damaged paternity files, and missing vaults of monies. The latter was reported by the goblins of Gringotts. Mid thought Harry blinked, when he opened them again, he realized that he no longer had a door. It evaporated into a puff of steam. In the middle of the dissipating steam stood Dumbledore, eyes twinkling with a cold anger and filled with harsh chastisement. Now that the door had finally come down, Harry still didn't know what to say. He stood up and looked at what to some might be an intimidating visage.

Albus stepped passed the muting barrier, his powerful magic squelching the wards Harry had erected to keep the headmaster's disciples out. As he made his advance he began his spiel. "Harry, _my_ boy-," Dumbledore started in.

"Stop right there. Stop talking, Albus," Harry said with almost a whisper. The headmaster looked at him dumfounded as Harry continued. "_I_ am leaving. There is nothing you can do to stop me." Though his face was pale and gaunt, it glowed with a wild look of determination, as his voice rose. "You have avoided me for the last month, like the plague. Now that I have managed to gain an _audience_, you are now informed. I am formally withdrawing from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, forthwith. The board already has my letter resigning any claims I have here as a student. I have alrea-"

The headmaster moved forward again and put up a hand to stop Harry's declaration. "_Now Harry_, you simply cannot do that. I know that things have been hard. Especially since we lost Sirius, but you must understand. This is all for the greater good. Everything _we_ _do_, _I_ do is for the greater good." If the twinkle in his eye could grow any brighter it would rival the North Star.

"And _my good_, Professor? As I was saying. I am leaving tonight. My last meal as a student here, was this evening. I've already made arrangements for my transport. You do not need to worry about my good any longer, _not_ that you ever did," Harry muttered snidely, at the end.

Having said his piece, Harry shrank is overstuffed trunk, slipped it on a chain around his neck and brushed passed the shocked headmaster. His friends rushed him as he left the confines of the room. None of them had heard what had been said due to his earlier muting charm. The only one who knew what was going on and the reasons as to why this was happening, was Neville and he gave Harry an encouraging nod. He had been on the receiving end of Harry's holiday howlers about how vile and manipulative Albus Dumbledore was. Harry ignored all other calls for his attention. Leaving them to wonder what had just happened, he continued his silent march to the entrance of Hogwarts.

As Harry walked away from the only home he had ever known, he breathed a deep sigh. He could feel Hogwart's magic pulling him back, but also shoving him away. It was as if she knew he had to leave, but wished he could stay. The castle's disappointment was sharp in his mind. Harry walked further, he brushed away tears that manifested from both his and her compounded disappointment that he couldn't remain. He turned one last time to look at Hogwarts and could see his most faithful friend, Neville watching him from a low castle window. Harry gave his face another wipe with the back of his hand and walked further into the moonlit night.

A/N Please read and review. Thanks, H.


	8. Ch8 A Fellow Escapee

Ambling Home by henri8l

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch8 A Fellow Escapee

_3 months later_

Dean and Sam hustled through the hospital corridors to get to room 6402. The hospital was a Wizarding entity of the Italian Ministry of Magic. Dean had been the one to do most of their talking from Peretola airport to the taxi they took. This came as a shock to Sam.

"Since when do you speak Italian?" Sam asked, almost laughing at the absurdity.

"Since I dated Chiara de Medici in Senior year."

Sam had to laugh. Now, he knew that Dean was lying. "How did you really learn Italian? The Medici's died out a long time ago."

"Not the Wizarding ones," Dean replied, smugly. "Boy, was she worth it."

Sam only shook his head as he watched the scenery go by. They whizzed through the small streets, somehow avoiding pedestrians and motorini's alike. The address on the letter took them to a small and empty piazza. After a few quick maze-like turns the people had become sparse and the taxi parked itself at the entrance. The driver had been reluctant to leave them on their own. He was convinced that they were tourists, and their look did nothing to dissuade him. He was certain that this was a trap set for them, and refused to tell them his fee. Sick of the man's protestations, Dean got out of the taxi and promptly told the man to mind his own business in rapid Italian. He then turned to Sam who was busy twisting his body out of the small taxi with a duffel in each hand, and told him to pay the man. Once they were alone Dean dug the letter out of his pocket and read the magic words, _'Casa di Innocenti,' _and passed it to Sam pointing the words out. Before their eyes the small piazza became a bustling hospital. Healers, Mediwitches, and Mediwizards walked, strolled or ran around the surrounding piazza depending on their shifts. Parents were leaving with small bundles, ambulances careened in from a neighboring street. Sam stood in awe. Dean went in, immediately. It didn't take long for the Mediwitch on duty to send them to his son's room.

Sam stationed himself outside as Dean pushed the door open. _'6402,'_ Dean thought as he turned the doorknob.

When Dean entered he saw an empty bed with numerous cords and wires strewn over the bed and hanging over the railings. Other than that, there we few personal things in the room. There was a stuffed ball with wings on the table next to the bed, and an open window, but no son.

"Where is he?" Dean asked the empty room. He knocked on the bathroom door only to have it bounce back at him, open. Showing him that it was dark inside.

The door to the hospital room opened and a tall man in a white lab coat entered. "Mr. Winchester."

"Healer Conti?" Dean asked. He was hoping this was the man that had written him. Maybe he could locate his son. _'Maybe he needed tests or something?'_ Dean thought, trying to temper his worrying.

"Yes, I'm happy to see that you responded to my letter so fast. Do you have the locket?" Healer Conti asked. Dean nodded and took off his chain that he kept his father's dog tags on. There beside them was a rose gold locket that the healer sent in the letter. He hadn't even shown it Sam. "Open it, please." Opening the clasp, the locket revealed two pictures of a boy. On one side was there was a picture of him when he was a baby and the other was a recent picture because the black haired boy had the beginnings of stubble. "Thank you, Mr. Winchester. We can never be too careful these days with You-Know-Who back. I specifically spelled these pictures to only be visible to you and me."

"If it was such a risk, why the letter?" Dean asked, putting the chain back on.

"The letter was general enough that no one would suspect it was about Harry. The pictures, well no one would mistake his face." Dean could understand that.

He looked back towards the bed and to the healer. "So where is he?"

The healer shook his head and held his folders to his chest. "Despite our efforts it would seem that he is on the run again. I set my assistant in to check his vitals before his evening meal and he was gone. Out the window, we suspect." Dean's nervous excitement deflated.

"How could a kid just walk out of a hospital? " Dean asked as he tried to forget how easy it had been anytime he had done it.

"Your son has a talent for narrow escapes, Mr. Winchester," said Healer Conti. Dean knocked on the door to call Sam.

His brother poked his head in. "What? Doctor?" Sam asked looking around the room for his nephew. "Where?"

"He's not here, Sam. He pulled a Winchester. Healer Conti was telling me that he made his escape about an hour or two ago," Dean said. His hands were tight around the metal railings of the bed.

"Could you tell us about his condition when he came here?" Sam asked. The healer kept his expression professional and cool. He pictured the condition the boy had been left to him in, and began to get angry all over again.

"He didn't come on his own. A man who went by Rus brought him. He was the one who gave me the potion to test Harry's lineage. He's well known in some circles so he asked me to only call him that. Rus brought Harry here for me to heal him and protect him with my life. I swore to and Rus left."

Sam's face was scrunched up in concentration, "Rus?"

Dean gave him an annoyed look. "Snape, genius. Healer Conti, please?"

"Yes. I think you should sit down for this. This will be a long explanation." Dean took the instruction and sat with his leg over the corner railings.

"Please don't spare us any details. Harry is my only son and I know of him, thanks to you. So. Please tell us. It's the only way we might find him." The healer nodded and adjusted his stethoscope.

"I know who he was as soon as I saw him. Who wouldn't know that scar?"

Sam and Dean shared a look. _'Scar?'_ they both said mentally.

"He was nearly unrecognizable, his eyes were swollen shut by the beating he received. His arm was broken in three places. Two of them were recent. One from what I could see was previously an unhealed fracture, which was then broken in the attack. His skin was covered in lacerations. Three broken ribs, loss of a tooth, one ear drum was shot out and he was missing most of a phalange."

"Phalange?" asked Dean.

"Finger," answered Sam.

"Yes, his small one on his left hand. It was down to the last phalange on the pinky."

"Jesus!" Sam said, covering his mouth.

"Is that all?" Dean asked, hoping with everything that was good, that it was.

"No. He showed evidence of being under cruciatus curse for an extended period of time. It was only yesterday, when he began talking and responding that I was able to tell what effect it had on his mind."

"But that's illegal! I remember that much!" said Sam.

"So is beating a kid within inch of his life, Sam. Please, Healer, what else?"

"His magic was no longer responding to his wand. It was healing him, but he couldn't access it. He really shouldn't be out there right now. He is completely vulnerable."

Dean got up from the bed and walked to the window. "So you're sure he wasn't taken."

"Yes, to the best of my knowledge, he made it out on his own. He's a very resourceful young man," said Healer Conti. Sam could see that. _'Must've gotten that from Dean. Seems like they're both stubborn and damn near suicidal in their determination.'_

"He's the savior and will be again, many say. The impression is that he was spoiled celebrity, but I saw the evidence. Whatever hell he's enjoyed it's been for nearly his entire life. Albus Dumbledore kept a close hand and interest on him. He recently disappeared, but I have my doubts. Death Eaters would kill him, right away. If it were a robbery there would be a stabbing or a gun shot or an Avada. But this, this was personal." Dean agreed. That was just what he was thinking.

_Knock, Knock. _Before any of them could answer, the door was opened and a short man in a blue lab coat ushered into the room one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

"Well I'll be damned," said Dean.

A/N. _Casa di Innocenti_- House of Innocents. Phalanges- finger bones. Please read and review. Thanks, H.


	9. Ch9 Sweetheart

Ambling Home by henri8l

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch9 Sweetheart

Dean looked at the leader of the Order of the Phoenix with contempt. This man was the one responsible for the life his son had lived. He didn't like him back when he'd first met him as a stupid kid, and he didn't trust him now. Dean stood as tall as he could and glared fiercely at the manipulative old wizard. They wouldn't be played this time around.

Healer Conti was incensed, and spoke before anyone else could say a word. "You're not authorized to bring anyone to this room!" Healer Conti bellowed at his assistant. He was the man who had led in the interloper and was standing to Dumbledore's right.

"Healer, I… Signore Dumbledore said that you directed him to this room!" the bewildered assistant said. The short man then whipped his eyes to the ancient wizard beside him, shocked by his duplicity.

Dumbledore didn't even bother to look ashamed. He only looked down his nose at the panicking healer's assistant.

"Dumbledore knows a lot about lies," said Dean, uncrossing his arms.

"Mr. Singer? Is that you, dear boy… I can assure you, I never lied about anything to you," Dumbledore said in a patronizing tone.

"Cut the crap, what are you doing here?" Dean wasn't having it.

"I've come to retrieve Harry, of course. Healer, you do understand how important it is that I relocate him to secure location," Dumbledore's eyes were shining bright.

"Your mind magics won't _work_ on me, Dumbledore. _Occhiochiuso_, alert security," ordered Healer Conti, pointing his assistant towards the door.

"Now that is not necessary. I…Dean, and is that, Sam? What are you two doing here?" Dumbledore asked backing away from the irate healer.

"None of your business, Sweetheart," Dean said moving to stand in front of his brother as if he could hide him, despite the fact that Sam towered over him.

'_Old habits…'_ Sam thought with a smirk, looking down at the top of his over protective bother's head. He then added his own glare to his brother's and the healer's, which were all aimed at the offensive old man.

"Harry _is_ my business!" Dumbledore insisted.

"Who are you talking about?" Sam mocked, feigning a lack of knowledge.

"Yeah, Healer. Didn't you say you had a reaper problem?" added Dean, glancing over at Conti.

Three burly and intimidating Carabinieri came into the hospital room, dressed in robes with wands drawn. They were quickly followed by the healer's assistant. They took a protesting Dumbledore into custody and he was escorted out.

"Looks like he had the right idea about running," Sam said, bringing all eyes to him. He shrugged off the annoyed look his brother sent him.

Healer Conti opened his mouth to continue speaking with the Winchesters when he realized his assistant was still in the room. Occhiochiuso obviously thought he had the right to stay, but the healer gave him a look that promised retribution and his poor assistant scuttled out of the room.

"There's not much I can do to help you find him. If I alert the authorities, Dumbledore will pick it up."

"No, you've done enough for us, Healer Conti. Thank you. We'll find him," said Dean, determined. He shook the healer's hand, and Conti pulled him in to give him a kiss on each cheek. Dean reciprocated. _'Okay?'_ Dean thought, _'never thought I'd do that.'_

Dean and Sam left the hospital with a disappointed but not defeated air. As they waited for their taxi, Dean turned to Sam and told him, "Find us some work, Sammy."

Sam gave him a look that clearly asked if he was okay.

"While we're here we might as well work, right?" Dean asked, hopefully deflecting any of Sam's inclinations towards initiating a heart to heart.

"We don't have the money to search the whole of Europe, Dean!"

"Do we ever have money, Sam? Quit your whining or go home. You can leave, if you want, but I'm not leaving without my son," Dean said. He pointed a finger down the opposite street to show his seriousness at giving Sam a way out. He waited, silently staring down his brother, knowing that Sam would never leave him at a time like this.

"Fine I'll look in the papers, but be careful. We need to stay out of trouble, we're not home," Sam warned. _'Who knows how some of these breeds of supernatural differ from ours.'_

"Whatever, Sammy."

Sam pulled a face, but didn't bother to correct him.

Harry's mind was fuzzy and he was lightheaded. He had wasted most of his stamina on the run from the hospital. His mad dash had been pointless since he was forced to stop after only making it a few paces passed the hospital's piazza. Harry kept his eyes trained in front of him looking for oncoming traffic or pedestrians. There were none. His body may have denied him a running start, but he hoped he would be able to at least jog through the weakness. Every other moment or so he looked back behind him, looking for someone keen on bringing him back to his healer. _**'**__Have to get far enough away.'_ He could hear the sound of a city reaching his ears, car horns, indiscernible clicks, rings and clacks, and stray pieces of conversation, but Harry still couldn't see anyone. And as the night grew closer it was becoming harder to see anything, but the new moon looming high above him. Harry pulled out his wand, still having seen no one coming, and at this point didn't very much care if some muggle had come along.

Harry could feel the warmth of his magic gathering, coursing from his core down his wand arm and just as it reached the tips of his fingers, and the skin of his palm, it gave him a shock. A painful one, that left his entire arm and a portion of his chest tingling in pain. "Merlin's _balls_!" It had been so startling that Harry had dropped his wand. He stared at it stupidly as it lay on the ground. When he finally bent down to pick it up, making a grab for it with his left hand, he saw his missing finger. He wiggled what was left of the digit and mourned for it. He could almost feel it moving. _'I didn't think he'd actually done it.'_ Harry sighed and kept going, maybe he could get far enough away that Dumbledore would never find him. He still didn't know how he had gotten out, but he was thankful to be here. Wherever this was. He just hoped that his drained body allowed him to walk slowly from now on, since it seemed he couldn't even jog anymore. The pangs of his ribs were already strongly protesting his over exertion.

He turned a few corners, and it seemed like he was returning to civilization. He must have left the hospital wards and warning enchantments because ahead of him he could see cars parked, and a couple huddled together as they walked. If he had the breath he might have called out to them, for assistance, but he only slowed down more. They soon were out of hearing range.

Harry's thin hospital robe opened at the back, letting a draft blow up the back of his legs. He began to shiver as he walked. The thin light colored robes changed, becoming thick and soft around his body. The robe was now a long coat, perfect for this cool weather. Harry didn't notice because the chill had already breezed through his bones as he walked fiddling with his wand. Harry walked until he had no more strength left in him.

He leaned up against an ancient wall, his eyes still darting about him. "Where am I?" he asked the empty street, before closing his eyes to rest them. The horizon line ahead was rocking back and forth. His equilibrium began to come back while he stared at the blackness just inside his eyelids.

The easy swish and crinkling sound of plastic, and the steady click of heels were coming from his right. Harry opened his eyes a crack and saw a middle-aged woman approaching him. He closed his eyes again, hoping she'd leave him alone. She didn't. Harry forced himself to straighten up from the wall and look at her. The tumble of sounds coming out of her mouth made no sense to him. To Harry their hurried pace sounded like an unfathomable song. The woman continued on, even as Harry gave no reply and put down one of her shopping bags. Quieting only for a beat, the woman put a cool hand to his forehead.

Harry's dizziness was getting worse. He was tired and this woman was only tiring him more, but he began to smile in a way that he hoped was polite. It looked more like a grimace, that couldn't convince the woman at all. He was fully prepared to walk away as soon as she removed her hand from his person. But the woman continued speaking and Harry could feel his focus waning when the woman's words began to become clear. First the melody of what she said began to separate into words. Foreign words, yes, but suddenly he could hear one word before it broke out into another. He squinted at her, puzzled at what was going on.

"You're, too, thin! Where did you come from? You should be in a hospital! You can barely stand up! You are coming with me. _Then_ we will call your parents!" Harry didn't know what to say to any of it. Not to her distress at his state or his new ability to understand her words.

A/N Thanks for the review peters. kitten! Please read and review. Thanks, H.


	10. Ch10 Divine Intervention

Ambling Home by henri8l

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch10 Divine Intervention

The last few hours had been strangely ordinary for Harry. The only thing really strange was that he could understand her perfectly. He knew that he wasn't speaking English. The woman had laughed at him when he'd asked her straight out what language they were speaking. It was Italian apparently. He put the ability down to his magic, and shrugged it off. He had followed the woman all the way home. She had refused help with carrying her bags. She told him that his job was to carry himself safely to her home. They had climbed three flights of stairs before getting to her apartment. It took all Harry had in him to remain standing as the woman unlocked her door. She pushed him through the thick doors and left him in the parlor to put away her groceries.

Harry inspected the apartment from his point in the parlor. He saw the woman in the kitchen half in the refrigerator as she restocked it. She had called out to him while she worked and he looked around. She told him her name was Camilla. He looked at her orderly parlor with antique furniture and a couple of paintings. There was a wall full of pictures of her and a growing boy, Matteo, her son. She had told him about her son on their trek up her stairs. The latest picture he could see was of Matteo in a uniform. There was a door to a porch off her kitchen and the door that they had just come through. Satisfied with what he saw, he had waited for her. Camilla brought him some water. Before he knew what was happening she had taken his coat from him, leaving him stark naked in her parlor. The woman had only laughed. When he tried to grab the coat back, she laughed even more. Harry smiled at the memory of it, it raised his spirits a little bit to think of this evening. With Camilla there was a lot of laughing.

Now he was tucked in her son's old bedroom. Camilla had him dress in Matteo's clothes which were three sizes, too big. Matteo was very tall. Harry was all but swaddled into the comforter and left to sleep. Camilla had even turned out the light on him. For all of her concern and kindness, Harry still felt that there had to be more to her. Nothing this nice ever happened to him. Especially without consequences.

Harry fought sleep wanting to think over everything that had happened, but he couldn't manage it. The warmth of the comforter and the stress of his escape caught up to him. He quickly drifted into a deep sleep.

Since morning Sam had been driving Dean crazy. He had been grumbling to himself ever since Dean had brought him a newspaper to look for hunts.

"I never thought I'd say this again, but do you think you could read this for me, Dean?" Sam asked. He was pushing the newspaper in his brother's face.

"Finally gave up, huh?"

"There's only so much Google translator can do," Sam said with a defeated look.

"Glad to see that, that computer can't replace me," Dean said, beaming at Sam.

"Your hatred for computers is unnatural."

Dean just smirked. He gave Sam a wink and opened the newspaper to the back pages. Most of the good stuff was written back there. He could feel Sam's eyes burning into him.

Sam had watched Dean thumb through the paper, before he got annoyed with watching him do _his_ job._ 'Only Dean would go through the trouble of learning an entire language for a girl.' _He wanted to leave his brother searching for new hunts to go get a couple more papers, and maybe something to eat. But he stubbornly sat down on the bed and watched Dean silently read through the paper.

Dean watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. He was fidgeting while he took his time reading. He was counting on Sam's pride to get him out of the room. Dean didn't stop searching until Sam's patience had reached its limit. He let out a sigh when Sam had gotten up and left. He waited a few more minutes, rereading a few lines that he had read already in case Sam came lumbering back in. He sent another glance to the door, while throwing the paper on the small table he had been reading at and got up.

He looked up at the old ceiling of the monastery room he and Sam were staying in and called out towards it, "Castiel!" The irony didn't escape him that he was calling an angel to a monastery, something that countless monks had probably prayed for behind these ancient walls. The flutter of wings met Dean's ears. This went on for a few minutes and Dean was losing his cool. He began to glare at the cracks in the ceiling. Still no Castiel. "Castiel!" There was louder fluttering and a small gust of wind that alerted him to the angel's arrival.

"Dean. You called," said Castiel.

Dean twisted his mouth shut to hold back the sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. He didn't have time for this. Sam could come back at any time. "Where is he?" Dean demanded.

"He is on Via Sant'Egidio in a sandwich shop."

"What? In a sandwich shop? What are you talking about?"

"Sam. He bought a few newspapers and then went to get food."

"I'm not talking about Sam! Did you know about him?"

"Sam is your brother…"

Dean pulled out the colt and aimed it at the angel's chest. "Don't play with me, Cas. Where is he? I know that you knew about him. You're an angel for God's sake."

Castiel frowned deeply. His mouth was turned down slightly as he looked at the pistol. He stared at as if he were trying to understand why it was pointed at him.

"OW! Damn it, Cas!" Dean exclaimed. He dropped the gun and shook his hand. He blew on his hand, looked at the gun and saw that the metal was red hot. He looked back at his hand, looking for the third degree burns that he must have. "Cas!" he yelled as his palm burned. Castiel didn't say anything he just stepped forward, leaving the gun on the floor. He snatched Dean's hand forward, and unceremoniously clasped their hands, resisting the man's squirming. He stood there a few moments just holding Dean's hand and staring him in the eye.

"Don't do that again. You don't point dangerous things at friends and you don't take Father's name in vain," Castiel said. He gave Dean's hand a final squeeze before letting go. Dean's hand was healed over with not so much as a scar. The angel picked up the colt and gave it back to his friend.

"Thanks." Dean tucked it in his pocket and began pulling off his chain that had the locket. He knew that Castiel being an angel could see it.

Castiel watched him silently hand over the chain. He took it reverently, he rubbed a thumb over John's dog tags and carefully held the locket in between his fingers. He rubbed the locket carefully, knowing how important it had become to Dean. He could feel the warmth of the magic trapped inside of it.

"You can open it," Dean prompted.

Castiel did as told and was greeted with a moving baby picture on the left. "Harry," he said, quietly.

"Please, Cas. He's in trouble. Do you know where he is? Can you find him? I won't go into how you didn't tell me about him, now. Just. All I want is to find him and keep him safe."

Castiel stared at the smiling baby with the green eyes. _'As a baby he closely resembled Dean.' _

"I don't know if you can help him, Dean," he said, matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean? He's my son! I'd die for him!"

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, "Dean, you've only known about the boy for a little under forty-eight hours. How can you be so sure about that?"

Dean couldn't hold back anymore. He threw himself at the angel. He hauled back an arm and punched him, and then punched the angel again. Castiel wiped the blood off of his lip and stared at the bold red color, "blood. He's your blood."

"Now, do you understand, Castiel?" Dean asked, feeling slightly apologetic for attacking his friend.

Castiel nodded. "But you still can't protect him. This is his journey."

Dean cursed, "I have a responsibility!"

"And so does he," Castiel said with an air of finality.

"Just help me do this. I won't keep him from _destiny_, I just can't have him be abused anymore!"

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel's wings began to flap, pushing a breeze out of the windows of the room.

"Castiel!" Dean pleaded, as he felt the breeze rush him.

"Look in the third newspaper Sam brings. That's all I can do."

Dean watched his friend disappear and growled with frustration. _'Where's Sammy?'_ Now he was impatient for the giant to return.

A/N It's great to hear your reactions. Please readers, review. Thanks. H.


	11. Ch11 Lost Peacekeeper

Ambling Home by henri8l

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch11 Lost Peacekeeper

Days had gone by and Dean had read the third newspaper that Sam brought to the room over and over. Dean had read it so many times that the lines of grey type were blending together. The meaning behind the words were disappearing along with his patience. There was nothing there. Nothing suspicious, nothing supernatural. He was getting ready to call Castiel back down just to hit him again. _'I should've punched him a few more times,'_ Dean thought glaring at the ceiling for a moment.

"Maybe I can help?" Sam offered, as he bit into his breakfast croissant.

Dean gave him wry look. He held the paper up in the air, "Do you want a _full_ translation? Let me get _right_ to it, Sam!"

"I'm just trying to help!"

"Well you're not helping. There's only stuff about weddings, obits, missing dogs, and a want ad for a live-in nanny! Nothing suspicious."

"Why don't you look at the other ones?" Sam asked gesturing toward the papers that Dean hadn't touched since grabbing the third in the pile.

Dean stubbornly buried his head back into the paper in his hands. "Because it has to be this one."

'_There's got to be something here.'_ A few minutes later Dean took the other newspapers that were lying beside Sam on the bed.

In Camilla's apartment where Harry had spent the first few days, he was still in some pain. Since that first night, Camilla kept him resting. She had made soups from scratch. She kept Harry in bed, any time she found him lingering behind her trying to help her, she'd chase him straight back under those thick blankets in Matteo's room. The pampering was overboard to say the least. As much as Harry knew he shouldn't stay long, it did feel good having someone take the time to look after him.

One afternoon Harry snuck out of bed, hoping to use the loo, when he heard Camilla talking. Harry listened in, next to the parlor door, which was opened a crack. He peered through the crack and saw that Camilla was speaking into the phone.

"Yes, he'll be ready to go in a few days. Maybe sooner, you know growing boys. Have you been able to find any news of his parents or guardians?" Camilla said. Harry moved away from the open door to lean his back against the wall.

"I already told you that he hasn't given me a last name. No? Fine." Her conversation soon turned to some named Ricardo and Harry left to relieve himself.

Harry hadn't been back in bed long when Camilla came back into the bedroom. She was dressed in her coat and holding a purse. "Harry, caro, I was just speaking to my friend. He's a doctor. He told me of something I can get for you to speed along your recovery. I'll be gone for a few hours, I have a few more things to do while I'm out." Camilla then pointed to the book that Harry was reading. He had taken it from Matteo's shelf. "Don't read, too long. Always reading, you're just like my Matteo."

Harry nodded closing the book on one of his fingers to save the page, "Si, Signora." Camilla soon left. He left the book open on the bed and quietly searched the other rooms. Harry wasn't going to miss this opportunity to take a better look around. Something wasn't right. He looked in the guest room first. There was nothing out of place. There was a flowery bedspread and a bible that sat on the nightstand. The window's shutters were closed, so no light came in except from the bulb on the ceiling.

Harry turned out the light and went to the only other bedroom in the apartment, Camilla's. It looked almost identical to the guest room, except for the addition of the wooden crucifix tacked to the wall at the head of the bed. Also in Camilla's nightstand there was a more recent picture of Matteo. Harry picked it up and looked closer, _'Matteo really knows how to fill a uniform.'_ Just when Harry was going to put it back where he found it, he noticed that there were some official looking documents that had lain just below it.

It was a letter of condolence from the UN. It said that Matteo had been killed in an attack on a refugee camp that he had been patrolling. The letter told that Camilla, as his mother could take pride in her son's last actions of bravery. Matteo had saved nearly three-dozen children, before dying. It was dated six months ago. _'Matteo's dead,'_ now Harry was beginning to understand Camilla's need to take him in the other night. He reminded her of what she had lost. He carefully put the letter and picture back in their places, and went back to bed.

Now that Harry knew what was off about Camilla, he could rest better, instead of worrying about her intentions. Sure she was lying, but she was merely lying to herself to cope with the grief. Though Harry did still find it odd that Camilla had never asked _him_ for his parents' contact info. She asked someone else, why? _'Maybe she thinks I'm a runaway.'_

Harry stayed more than the few night he had intended. Before he really noticed nearly two weeks had passed since they had entered each other's lives. Camilla continued to be generous and a little over protective. Once Harry had felt well enough to walk around, Camilla began having him go along on her daily trips to the shops. He'd carry her lighter items because she still worried about his ribs. He no longer felt locked in and trapped in Matteo's bedroom. Harry was beginning to feeling really comfortable, now that he was feeling worlds better.

Today Harry had been allowed to carry a couple of heavier parcels for Camilla. His strength was really coming back fast now with Camilla's hearty cooking. She had sent him back out to the store to get something she had forgotten and Harry was now headed back to the apartment. He was feeling really good, happy even.

Harry could finally feel his magic, and tried small spells with his wand. None of them had worked so far, but he hadn't received another painful shock. Every night, late when he couldn't hear anymore sounds coming up from the street below, he would pull out his wand and test out spells. He knew that something had to work, eventually. Harry also knew that he couldn't wait until his magic healed to leave. He wasn't looking forward to leaving. He had become more than a little attached to Camilla. He had already found himself making excuses to himself to stay another day every day this week, and knew that he had to leave. Or he would never go. "I should leave tonight," Harry mumbled to himself as he readjusted the grocery bag in his hand.

A/N caro- beloved. UN- United Nations


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